Hey so um sorry for the delay, I forgot to set the timer for the chapter publication so hopefully you enjoy the chapter
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After dealing with Robert, I made my way toward Borgin and Burkes, guided by the memories I had extracted through Legilimency. Along the way, several wizards took one look at me and immediately turned down side streets or vanished altogether. Fear moved quickly in Knockturn Alley, especially when pain had been made visible.
The corruption of the Dark Arts was very real.
I had not intended to cast **Crucio** a second time. The first invocation, however, had stirred something within me. A perverse warmth spread through my body as I watched his resistance crumble. Control flowed effortlessly, intoxicating in its certainty. The spell itself seemed eager, almost urging repetition. I took note of the sensation and forced it aside.
Soon, a small hanging sign came into view.
Borgin and Burkes.
I paused, drawing in a slow breath. This was where the foundation would be laid. From here, Potter's reputation could be quietly eroded and Dumbledore's standing within the Ministry weakened without open confrontation.
I stepped inside.
The shop was narrow and dim, steeped in a Victorian gothic aesthetic. Shelves crowded the walls, laden with cursed artifacts and objects that whispered faintly of old magic. Along one wall, preserved heads of magical creatures stared outward, their glassy eyes seeming to follow movement that was not there.
No one was visible.
Then a voice cut through the silence.
"Are you finished browsing?"
The voice was thin and oily, laced with suspicion. Soft, yet sharp enough to threaten. Borgin's voice.
I turned toward him as he emerged from behind one of the shelves. He was thin, his greying hair slicked back, pale eyes constantly calculating. His fingers twitched just slightly too close to his wand.
"Yes," I said calmly. "Though it appears the quality of your merchandise has declined, Borgin."
"The Ministry has tightened restrictions," he replied stiffly. "Even Knockturn Alley isn't spared anymore."
I chuckled softly. "And yet, you still conduct business as you did in the old days."
His eyes narrowed. "Old days? I don't recall you. Show yourself."
"It would be safer if I didn't," I answered. "If you knew who I truly was, I would be forced to kill you."
He reacted instantly.
Avada Kedavra!
I conjured a massive stone barrier in front of me. The killing curse struck it head-on, shattering the boulder into fragments. Before the dust settled, another green flash followed.
I Apparated.
Reappearing near another shelf, I raised my hand.
Borgin was lifted off the ground as invisible pressure closed around his throat. His wand slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor. He struggled uselessly, legs kicking, hands clawing at empty air.
I whispered, Torquimentum.
His body convulsed violently as the curse took hold. His eyes widened in terror, a raw scream tearing free before he could suppress it.
Statulaxus.
The pressure vanished. Borgin collapsed onto the floor, trembling, his breathing shallow and uneven. His arms hung limp, barely responsive.
With a flick of my hand, I conjured two cushioned armchairs and set him onto one. I took the other, settling into it with deliberate ease.
"Really, Borgin," I said mildly. "That was reckless. Has age dulled your instincts? Or has this illusion of peace finally softened you?"
"W-what do you want?" he rasped.
"I came to have you deliver a message," I replied. "You chose to behave like an overeager Gryffindor instead."
He swallowed and steadied himself. "To whom?"
"Lucius Malfoy."
His expression shifted instantly.
"…He will be here in fifteen minutes," Borgin said carefully. "We have an arrangement regarding the situation with his estate."
"Continue."
"As you already know, Arthur Weasley has been pushing a Muggle Protection Act," Borgin explained. "Using it as justification to raid estates suspected of holding dark artifacts. The Malfoys are his primary target. Ordinarily this would go nowhere, but Dumbledore's supporters have ensured no one interferes."
I smiled faintly.
"Malfoy offered me five artifacts of my choosing," Borgin finished, "in exchange for assistance."
"You need not fear for your safety," I said coldly. "Lucius attempted to dispose of an artifact I entrusted to him. That action alerted me."
I rose from my seat.
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Ignoring Borgin, I made my way toward the bookshelves. To my disappointment, the collection was underwhelming. The texts here did not compare to the dark arts volumes I had studied during my time at Hogwarts. Most of them were recent publications, sanitized reproductions rather than original manuscripts written by the authors themselves.
As I continued searching, one title caught my attention.
Magick Moste Evile: The Millennium Edition.
A modern publication of the very book that had once set Riddle on the path to becoming Voldemort.
I opened it.
The further I read, the more my irritation grew. This book was a pale mockery of the original. There was no mention of Horcruxes. No discussion of soul magic. The darkest art referenced within its pages was the raising of Inferi. It even claimed that the Unforgivable Curses were the vilest magic ever conceived.
Blasphemy.
I closed the book sharply and rose from my seat, intent on questioning Borgin about this disgrace. Before I could speak, the shop door opened.
Lucius Malfoy entered.
He was tall and composed, silver-blond hair neatly pulled back, his aristocratic features set in their usual mask of superiority. His black cane tapped lightly against the floor as he stepped inside, pale eyes scanning the shop before settling on me.
Before he could speak, Borgin hurried forward.
"Mr. Malfoy, it's a pleasure to see you again," Borgin said quickly.
"The pleasure is mine," Lucius replied coolly. "Before we begin, may I know who this individual is?"
"He is a client interested in acquiring high-quality artifacts," Borgin answered smoothly. "I thought it appropriate to introduce him to you, given the reputation of the Malfoy collection."
Lucius studied me for a moment, his expression twisting into faint disgust. He gave a short nod.
"Very well. Lead the way."
I noted his disdain but paid it no attention. My focus had shifted entirely to the Dark Mark. I could sense it now, faint but unmistakable. Instinctively, I knew I could resonate with it. I could activate it.
We took our seats. Borgin lingered for a moment before speaking.
"I'll be at the counter should either of you require assistance," he said, then left in a hurry.
Lucius folded his hands over his cane. "Before we proceed with business, I would like to know who you are."
"You will know," I replied calmly, "if we reach a favorable agreement."
Lucius nodded and reached into his robe, withdrawing a mokeskin pouch. He emptied its contents onto the table. Fifteen artifacts lay before me.
"Feel free to examine them," he said. "If you have specific requirements, I possess additional pieces as well."
I picked up the first artifact, a necklace, and examined it closely. Its function was simple. The wearer would be plagued by hallucinations, forced to relive their worst fears again and again, slowly losing their sanity.
"The artifacts are quite exquisite, Lucius," I said softly. "My slippery friend."
His face paled instantly.
Lucius rose from his seat and slammed his cane against the floor. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Reveal yourself!"
Ignoring his outburst, I spoke calmly. "It has come to my attention that you attempted to dispose of an artifact I entrusted to you for safekeeping."
I activated the Dark Mark.
Lucius dropped his cane and clutched his arm, his breath hitching. "M-my lord… is it truly you?"
"**Crucio.**"
He collapsed to his knees as the curse took hold.
"Please forgive me, my lord," he gasped through the pain. "I know I have disappointed you, but I was forced."
He continued desperately. "The Malfoy estate has been under constant scrutiny from Dumbledore's followers. Weasley has been pushing another law, one that would further destroy pure-blood heritage. He seeks to ban even more artifacts. At this rate, all ancient magic will be erased from Britain."
I cut off the curse.
"What else has occurred since my disappearance?" I asked.
"My lord," Lucius said shakily, "since your alleged downfall, all pure-blood estates have been subjected to raids. Traditionalists and neutrals initially refused to believe you were gone, but as time passed, our artifacts were confiscated and destroyed. Even the so-called progressives have allowed their legacies to rot. The ICW no longer recognizes British certifications."
He lowered his head. "I had no choice. The raids have grown more frequent. Weasley brings Dumbledore's agents to my estate regularly. The neutrals have withdrawn their support. We lost too much in the war. We stand on the brink of extinction."
He hesitated, then added, "When rumors spread that you were alive and had appeared at Hogwarts last year, we were ecstatic. But no message ever came. We thought it false hope."
I let out a slow breath.
"To think even the neutrals have betrayed us," I said. "Who leads them now, Lucius?"
"The Greengrasses, my lord," he replied. "They have aligned largely with the progressives, though they attempt to restrain them. It has been ineffective."
He looked up at me. "Rituals are labeled barbaric. Powerful spells are condemned as dark curses. Wizards today lack access to knowledge we possessed as students. Your absence allowed this decay."
"Very well," I said at last. "I will forgive you this once."
Lucius exhaled in relief.
"And Borgin," I continued, raising my voice slightly, "my old friend. Join us."
I rose from my seat.
"It is time for the wizarding world to prepare for my return."
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